


In Another Life

by meansgirl



Series: Zombie Apocalypse AU [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_santa, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansgirl/pseuds/meansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a shopping mall at the end of the world, a group of people wait out the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gblvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/gifts).



> Written for gblvr during sga_santa 2009.

It's a mall, and no amount of blood or brains will ever let Evan forget that simple fact. He shifts, adjusting the position of his freezing backside on the hard marble of the drained water fountain. The steps down lead to a scattering of loose change, old wishes tossed into water that's long gone. His boots scrape pennies across blue tile as he adjusts. 

The fountain provides good cover. It's situated behind a shoulder-high frosted glass divider, the perfect block should anything get through the double doors just beyond it. From his vantage point, Evan has a pretty good view of the doors and the parking lot outside. Tonight the lot is empty of movement, and for that he breathes a sigh of relief. The bodies dotting the asphalt, lying across the slanted white parking spaces, have become part of the landscape. In the dark he can barely see them.

It's his turn on the watch. This particular entrance to the former shopping mecca is more vulnerable than the others, which were easy to board up and barricade. This one is set in a wall of glass. 

"A wall of fucking glass!" McKay had shouted, "Why the hell would they make an entire wall out of glass! Idiots!" 

The surly, slant-mouthed professor of physics had run smack into Evan and Sheppard several weeks ago when things first started to go south, back when they were still in New York. Evan remembers the crazed blue of McKay's eyes that first day and how the scientist's mouth had formed the word "zombie" even while his face seemed determined to deny that such a thing could ever, ever exist.

But, as Evan, Sheppard, and the other seven runners living in the shopping center could attest, such a thing did, in fact, exist. 

***

It had started out the three of them, running and running, on trains and then through the subway tunnels, in a stolen cab, and then on foot. They had picked up Ronon and Teyla in Central Park, and had kept running, running and running onto a bus in the Bronx headed God knew where as fast as the thing could drive. The attack had taken it suddenly and the five had become six as Radek, the only other survivor from the bus, joined them in their escape. Five days without sleep and two more runners joined them at a deserted truck stop in Paramus. Elizabeth and Carson had found each other in Pennsylvania when The Virus was still somewhat contained, practically unknown to your average joe, and they'd been fighting tooth and nail to get somewhere safe for a week. 

It took them another couple of days to make it to the mall. Driving an SUV packed door to door with bloodied, sweating, tear-soaked, exhausted people through a sea of the undead had been the perfect job for John Sheppard (Evan would be forever grateful he ever met that crazy bastard) and somehow they had made it in a side entrance, blocked the doors, and run without stopping, looking for somewhere to hide. There was another running with them by then, a blond woman who had screamed "Hey, I'm Laura, mind if I come along?" Evan had no idea how she had managed to get through those brain-hungry bastards but he had shouted "Evan. Charmed, I'm sure. Let's fucking _go_. McKay, run _faster_.

The sound of rabid faces, hands, feet, torsos, smacking against the glass entrance had echoed through the place, mingling with their noisy breaths and squeaking shoes.

There had been two in the mall. There was Sumner, old school ex-Marine with little love for the intruders, with their days of stench and blood all over them. And Ford, who Evan knew very little about. While Evan had been catching his breath, someone had said, "He's been bitten." And before Evan had time to see who, Ford had shot himself in the head and was gone.

***

Three weeks into his stay at the lovely mall, Evan stomps his feet restlessly on top of the penny wishes and sighs. It's a mall, and he's always hated malls--bad back-to-school shopping experiences--and it's in New Jersey. Evan has no clear-cut reason for disliking the Garden state. He just _does_. However, as Radek would say, "At least it's safe. At least we can sleep. At least we can stop running."

_For now_, Evan would keep himself from saying. They could stop running for now. Who knew when those things would show up again. They'd experienced days of terror behind that giant glass wall, all of them standing in a line holding guns, red fire axes, knives, whatever weapons were left, watching the things throw themselves at the glass, foaming at the mouth, reaching out and screaming. Once, they got the doors open and started barreling through the barricade. That was the last time those doors had gotten open. After that, after Sumner got bitten and Sheppard shot him and fifteen zombies ("Fucking. Zombies." McKay had panted later that night when it was all over), they made sure the doors were never left unguarded.

Still, there's always the chance. If more were to come at once, more than fifty or so, they could smash through that thick glass wall. They'd figure it out. The fuckers are strong, and they never stop, never get tired. They're not very fast, but they _are_ hungry and you can't distract them from that hunger. They'll keep moving and moving until you take the head from their shoulder by bullet, by blade, or if the situation calls for it by nine iron. Sheppard still has that bag of clubs somewhere around here, "just in case." 

Evan's watch ends at 3am, and Sheppard shows for the third shift with his gun slung over his shoulder and two cups of instant coffee in his hands. He passes one to Evan and gives him a lopsided grin. 

"Having fun yet?" he asks, groaning a bit at the end as he sits next to Evan on the fountain steps.

"A blast, sir."

Sheppard sighs at the "sir" and Evan hides his grin. He met Sheppard in Afghanistan, couple years ago, and they had been in New York at the same time by happenstance when the Infection started. Nothing like a zombie surge to ruin a nice steak dinner.

Despite Sheppard's repeated pleas to be called anything other than "sir," Evan keeps on with it. Part of him gets a kick out of annoying Sheppard, but a bigger part just can't help but show the man that small respect. Black mark or no black mark, Sheppard outranked him and Evan respected a man who fought for the safety of his men the way Sheppard had. The way Sheppard still _did_, even in a god-forsaken mall in New Jersey.

"Zelenka's got some late night snacks going at the Starbucks," Sheppard says. "Most everyone's asleep, but I think McKay's over there doing his math thing. Might be fun to poke the scientists."

Evan grins and hoists himself to his feet. He slides the long blade of his machete into the sheath at his hip, checks to make sure his gun's secure in its holster and waves a lazy salute in Sheppard's direction as he saunters off toward the escalators, his boots loud in the welcome quiet.

***

The glass windows that make up two of the walls of the lower level Starbucks are completely covered in numbers and symbols in various dry-erase colors. Zelenka is throwing away molded muffins and scones behind the counter while McKay scribbles and babbles on and on.

Evan is situated at his favorite table with Laura, who can't sleep again, listening to Zelenka's occasional correction and McKay's indignant squawks. He's switched from instant coffee to water, hoping to get some shut-eye sooner or later. Laura is mainlining espresso and playing a manic game of solitaire on the table top. Evan is content to be silent, to watch them (watch over them, crane his neck to check the immediate area for threats every ten minutes).

Radek tosses one last cinnamon apple what-the-hell-ever into the industrial sized trash bag in his hand and sighs at McKay. "Rodney, it's five in the morning. Time for bed."

"Just because you're _wrong_\--"

"He's right, doc. Time to pack it in, tomorrow is a new day with plenty of hours with which to crush our puny intellects."

McKay sniffs in Evan's general direction, "Well..."

Radek catches the way McKay's eyes slide in the general direction of the escalators as he fiddles with the cap to his marker.

"Ah--" Zelenka clears his throat, "I believe Sheppard is on watch until sun up? Maybe he wants company?"

"Yes, right... I'll just--" McKay tosses down his marker, picks up his coffee. He seems to wibble for a moment, shuffling toward and away from the door until Laura hands over one of her coffee cups.

"Here," she says, "Take this one to him."

McKay twitches a smile and mutters a quick thanks before scurrying out. Evan and Radek pry Laura up from the table and press one last paper cup of coffee into her hands. They can see McKay running down the the long-dead escalator as they turn out of the storefront.

"Not tired." Laura insists as Evan and Radek steer her toward Macy's.

"You need rest, Cadman." Evan insists, tightening his grip on her tricep when it feels like she might be considering making a break for it.

"At least lie down," Radek cajoles her. "Take two hours, and then everyone else will be up and you will have someone to play with."

"Ronon promised we'd raid Sharper Image tomorrow..."

"Yeah," Evan pats her back a little. "Yeah, get some rest and you can go play at Sharper Image."

They coax her into the department store. It's like this with Cadman most of the time. The woman hates to go to sleep, always worried she'll miss something or, like all of them, that she won't wake up alive the next day.

Once Laura is down for the count under a pile of blankets between Ronon and Elizabeth, Evan and Radek wander away, further into the store. They don't speak, not wanting to risk waking the others. 

They had established the front of the department store as a sleeping area for obvious reasons--that's where all the beds displaying tastefully coordinated sheets and duvets were. There were at least fifteen beds but they really only used a few. Sleep was hard to come by, but it came easier in a puppy pile, three of them squished into the not-quite-standard sized beds with their unstable mattresses and piles and piles of expensive blankets.

Radek turns, and they're out of housewares and passing tools and then fitness equipment. Eventually they take enough turns to have found themselves at the back entrance to the store. The remnants of dining sets and entertainment centers act as boards for the large glass doors. They had nailed them up first thing, right after Sumner died and they had to regroup and figure out a plan, find somewhere to live while the rode this -- whatever_this_ was -- out. 

Evan falls gratefully into a leather love seat, pulling Radek down with him. Radek's mouth finds his quickly, pressing softly but with clear intent. Evan hums, sucks Radek's lower lip between the two of his, and sinks deeper into the leather. 

As a kid, he always loved department stores. So many things to touch, and his favorite had been furniture. His mother would take care of her errands while Evan tested each sofa, love seat, recliner and club chair, imagining the fantastical tree house he wished he could have and the furniture he would trick it out with. He had always liked the leather couches. When he was younger, it had been the squeak and creak of the material as he wiggled down, got comfortable.

Now, his affinity for leather upholstery has more to do with the buttery feel of it against his bare skin. Radek has Evan's shirt off in no time at all, then presses him back into the cushions. Evan nearly hums again as the italian leather meets his skin. They undress quickly. They hold no illusions that they have the time to strip slowly, that this is happening in Evan's apartment in Boston, Radek's house in California. They didn't know each other in those lives, so Radek doesn't know that Evan has a couch like this one in his living room and Evan has no idea what Radek's place must look like. Sloppy with papers and text books, maybe, but warm and homey most likely. 

This is neither of those places and they are living a life so far removed from the ones they used to have it would be ridiculous to even try and pretend otherwise. This is display furniture in a fucking Macy's in New Jersey, they both know that. However.

Once they're mostly naked--pants pushed down to Evan's ankles but not off, Radek's jeans off and close by in case he needs to grab them and run--and Radek has their cocks in one hand while the other trails over Evan's ribcage, there is a moment where they take pause. Things will go fast from here on out because they have to, but just for a second it's almost, almost, almost possible to forget where they are. 

Evan leans up, bites Radek's lips and rubs their stubbled cheeks together. Radek murmurs, kisses his mouth then his jaw, down to his neck where he bites down and his hand is moving and their hips start to thrust. 

They've been doing this, the sex thing, for a couple of weeks. Evan figures at this point that his military career is dead and gone (where the _fuck_ is the military, anyway?), so they don't keep it a secret per se. They're discreet--they don't cuddle in Starbucks or anything like that. Evan's not even sure if everyone knows they're fucking, and he doesn't care all that much either. Sheppard knows. Certainly doesn't care. Evan is ninety-nine percent sure McKay has passed out with his head in Sheppard's lap at this point and in a couple hours once Carson takes watch the two of _them_ will be holed up in Pier 1 doing this very thing all over the rattan.

Radek moves down Evan's body, and Evan would protest at the loss of friction if he wasn't anticipating Radek's mouth around him, which is exactly what he gets. He stifles a groan and his hips twitch up, bumping the head of his cock against the back of Radek's throat. Radek draws back then goes back down, his tongue doing impossible things and sending Evan's toes curling and his eyes rolling back in his head.

The blowjob doesn't last as long as either one of them would like, but again--this isn't home and they just never have the _time_. Evan reads the other man's body language easily, knowing when it's time to lick his own fingers and reach down to slide one inside Radek's ass, then another, stretching him and prepping his body quickly, efficiently, stealing just a moment to linger over his prostate. Radek keens and wriggles over him. 

Any day now, Evan is going to snap and throw a trashcan through the window of that novelty store, get them some actual lube. He's pretty sure they aren't the only ones who would appreciate it.

Radek slides himself down onto Evan's cock, a shiver going through him as he takes every inch and stills, just for a moment, before he starts to rock. Up, down, a little swivel of his hips, which Evan grips like a life line, trying to match the rhythm with his own thrusts up. 

It gets frantic fast, and Radek spills come all over Evan's stomach and chest. Evan gives one last ungraceful thrust up and comes hard. He squeezes Radek's hips harder than he should and pants nonsense into the air. 

After, they sprawl on the leather. Radek digs a pack of wipes from under the couch and hands them to Evan. They clean up and put what clothes they did remove back on. 

"How was watch tonight?" Radek asks.

"Quiet."

It's the first time they've spoken directly to each other since Evan switched with Sheppard. Radek makes a 'hmm' sound and looks at the makeshift barricade in front of them. Evan imagines they're on his couch in Boston, a game on the TV and beer in the fridge. Radek isn't into sports, but Evan thinks maybe he would watch with him. At least the game could be on and they could fuck for hours, checking the score between mind-blowing orgasms and snacks from Evan's tiny kitchen.

They get dressed. Before they head back to the front to try and sleep, Evan catches Radek's arm and pulls him close, chest-to-chest. "Thanks."

"Thanks for what?" Radek plays stupid, which Evan knows he isn't.

"For the hot sex, for the last good apple turnover you saved me."

"Wha--"

"It's in your pocket, I know it is."

Radek huffs but produces the pastry. They split it, munching away as they head to their bed with its Martha Stewart Living comforter and goose down pillows.

***

It's a quiet afternoon.

Ronon and Cadman are doing laps around the ground floor, the ridiculously high-tech, high-end, high-priced shoes they lifted from Shoe World sending slapping echoes up to the mezzanine balcony where Teyla and Elizabeth worked through sun salutations in front of the big dead elevators.

Carson is on watch at the rear entrance, Sheppard and McKay are playing hacky sack in front of the big glass wall. Evan's just finished inventory of the weapons they still have from before and the ones they have pilfered at the mall, and now he's off to find Radek. 

Teyla tries to wrangle them all into yoga at least once a week. Evan thinks she must have their names on rotation, somewhere behind those placid, unrevealing eyes there is a ticker "Monday, Laura; Tuesday, John; Wednesday..." He's pretty sure, about eighty percent, that it's a Thursday today. Teyla's coffee eyes had slid past him and pinned on Radek this morning, her voice a little sly: "Dr. Zelenka, you carry much of your tension in your lower back--"

Radek had spoken Czech at her and high-tailed it. Not this Thursday.

Teyla had grinned at the empty space where Radek had just been and shook her head. 

"Selective English. It's an affliction," Evan supplied helpfully.

"Hm." Teyla had nodded to herself, gathered up her mat and gone to find Elizabeth, the only person who ever wants to twist like a pretzel and call it a way to cope with the army of brain-eating undead that could be knocking down their glass door any day now.

***

Radek is dozing in the far corner of the bookstore, surrounded by textbooks and a couple sci-fi novels. Evan knows this is Radek's hiding place. When he isn't in Evan's line of sight, chances are he's back here reading or napping. Evan crouches down and pushes Radek's glasses up from where they've slid down his nose.

Radek's eyes open in a snap, wide and fearful for a moment before he takes in Evan's faint smile and relaxes. 

"Catching some shut eye, doc?"

Radek rubs at his eyes under his glasses. "Watch was long last night."

"I know," Evan murmurs, one hand going to squeeze Radek's shoulder. His fingers knead the deltoid, and Radek slumps into the touch. "Sorry I couldn't keep you company. It was my turn--"

"Your turn at the other entrance, I know. You were sleeping when I..."

Evan sighs. None of them know what to call their sleeping space in the department store. It's so tempting to say "home," almost a reflex. But it would be wrong to give a few square feet in an abandoned Macy's that kind of label. Though as the days go by, Evan wants more and more to give any place where Radek sleeps that distinction.

It's the urgency of their situation, he knows. In the real world, the one before this, he would never have known Radek and even if he had they would never have been like this. In the old world, Evan was career military. Before all this, before this new, fucked up world became the one in which he walked, Evan can't remember the last time he slept with someone he was actually attracted to.

"Is there anything that needs doing?" Radek is starting to get up, gripping a bookshelf to lever himself to his feet. "I'm sorry I fell asleep I--"

Evan stills his movements with a hand, and shakes his head. Radek flusters so easily. "No worries, Doc," he says softly, "Everything's fine at the moment."

Radek's muscles loosen under Evan's hand. God, but Evan is attracted to Radek. He would be, even in that other lost world. Never would have acted on it, but yeah. Radek is a bit blurry around the edges. Not too much older than Evan, but with fine lines at his eyes from squinting at screens and whiteboards, and one between his eyebrows where he draws them together in thought. His hair, getting longer now, is never tamed, always a little fly-away. Evan has always had this thing for brainy, absent-minded men. He never dates women like that, sticking to slightly less intellectual girls who won't catch on quickly, won't question his attraction to them.

He always felt badly for lying, so he rarely dated anyway. It doesn't matter now. There's no one to hide from anymore (who isn't undead), and Radek is here and seems perfect for Evan.

And it's so quiet today, so sunny and bright, and the book shop could be anyplace, they're so isolated. Evan kisses Radek softly on the lips, which he never gets to do. Radek's mouth curves under his, smiling, and then he returns it with nips and the sweet slide of tongue.

Evan imagines not his old life, but a different one. Perhaps one that could come after this nightmare finally ends. He imagines kissing Radek like this in public, in a book store, and laughing at the stares they draw. He imagines buying Radek books then taking him home, laying him out on a big bed with sheets that have been laundered, not ripped from plastic packaging the day before. Evan wonders what it would be like to take his time, wonders what sensitive places he would find on Radek's body, whether the words that poured out of Radek's mouth would be in Czech or English, if they didn't have to be quiet as they fucked.

Evan can imagine it in the moment it takes to hold Radek's face in his hands, to feel fingers crooking through his belt loops to pull him closer. 

It takes even less time for anger to swell, because that will never happen and thinking about it is dangerous and a waste of time. Evan starts to pull back, to get out of there before he does something stupid like lick down Radek's neck in broad daylight in the book store, like say things he shouldn't and hope for things that are impossible.

He's going to stop now, he's going to end this distraction before--

And just as Radek notices Evan's attempts at moving away, and his eyes go confused behind the smudged lenses of his glasses, the sharp pops of gunfire echo from somewhere far away.

They nearly bash their heads together, scrambling and then running, knocking into shelves and sending books toppling across the floor. They run and there is more gunfire, and Evan's heart is pounding with his feet and in his head he's thinking, "Another life, another life, another life, I want another life."

***

They're getting in. There aren't many out there in that parking lot, but there are enough and they're forcing their way through the barricades of the rear entrance. They aren't this smart, Evan tells himself, his pulse a throbbing staccato as he shoots and shoots and shoots. Every time one goes down, two more get through. They can deal with this, they've dealt with this before. There aren't that many.

But there could be more. Any minute, there could be more running with that jerking, stumbling gait across the asphalt, and if they blow the barricades wide open there will most certainly be more--too many to handle. They'll smell the blood and they'll come running. If the barricades are destroyed, it won't matter how many more come because they will all be dead. Undead. God.

Evan and Sheppard are doing what they can to keep the entrance clear, to give Radek and Rodney time to reinforce the barricade, but the fuckers just keep _coming_ and no one can get close enough to slam the shitty made in China furniture remnants against the break the Infected have managed to make. 

Laura is doing something behind them with God knows what, stuff she found in a beauty supply store, and Ronon is breaking wood. Once or twice he charges the entrance with a severed table leg, jamming it through the vaguely green-skinned skull of whatever is trying to squeeze its way in.

The Infected feel their way, always arms and hands first, as though they're blind. They aren't; they see. Evan tries not to make eye contact. They were _people_ once. Elizabeth exploits their reliance on their arms, trying to take out limbs while Evan and Sheppard aim for the head. She's a terrible shot, but you don't need to be a marksman to just shoot and hope you hit something that'll slow them down.

Sweat rolls down Evan's face, gets in his eyes, and he knows his hands are sweating too. He can feel them slipping as he reloads and he counts away precious ammunition as it leaves his weapon. He wants to check on Radek and yell for him to _stay back_, but knows he can't afford the distraction. Something whizzes by his head and through the widening hole in their barricade.

"What the fuck was--"

Sheppard bites off his own question as another something flies by and smoke starts to pour through the crack. There are flames out there now, Evan can see them, and now that he's paying attention he smells chemicals. Nothing tries to get through the hole but no one moves to cover it, momentarily confused.

"Christ, Cadman!" McKay yells over the sound of screaming undead. "Did you build _bombs_?"

"Sorta," she grunts, and with a running start chucks something through the hole in the barricade that shatters and is punctuated by an inhuman cry. She's too close, too close to the door and Evan is about to call to her when a blackened and bloody arm comes through and it has her, _it has her_. Radek is closest and he tries to pull Laura back. Fear is a gaping hole getting ever bigger, like the one they're going to drag Laura through, and Evan is dropping his gun and going for both of them. 

Everything is so hazy, he's not sure how he'll save them but he will, he _will_ because none of them are getting taken today, especially not Radek.

_Not. Radek. _

Sheppard's yelling at them, Elizabeth is firing through the hole and she should get back, Evan thinks as he tries to pry the cold fingers off of Laura's arm. The thing shows its face finally, pressing through the hole and it's grotesque and terrifying, its mouth dripping black bile and grey matter. Evan wants to vomit but he's frozen with fear.

The thing's head explodes when Teyla shoots it point-blank. The fingers release Cadman almost immediately, sending her falling backward. Radek and Evan go down like Dominos. Ronon slams a destroyed table over the crack in the barricade and Teyla and Carson go after it with nail guns. It won't last.

Sheppard pulls Cadman up by the hand and checks her for bites. Elizabeth is saying "We can't stay here. We can't stay. We can't stay here."

Evan and Radek stay down on the ground, breathing hard and lying an arm's length apart. Radek reaches over and finds Evan's hand, squeezing to show him, _Look, I'm alive. We're alive._

Radek's alive. They didn't take him. Not this Thursday.

***

After the attack, they gather what they need and pull down the security gate, holing themselves up in the department store. If anything gets through a main entrance, it'll have a hell of a time getting to them in here. They leave only if they must, and have made watch a thing of the past, except to guard the back entrance to the store. They do fast perimeter checks in groups regularly during the day. No one knows what to do next.

They've been trying to make a plan for days now. Even if there hadn't been a breech, they would have had to have these conversations soon anyway. They're running dangerously low on food and water. They're going to have to make a move or stay here and wait to die one way or another.

It's night and neither Evan nor Radek are on watch until morning. They're back on their leather sofa, but with their clothes on this time. Evan sits against the arm with one leg stretched out along the cushions and the other foot on the floor. Radek is lounging fully, his back against Evan's chest. They are silent.

Evan strains to hear beyond the barricaded doors. He listens for movement that could mean an attack, for the sound of tires on the asphalt or engines in the air. He listens for distant gunfire, a clue that someone else out there is fighting, too.

There has to be someone out there. Some place that hasn't been touched yet. There must be help on the way. If there isn't...

Evan looks down at the top of Radek's head. The other man's shoulder blades are sharp against Evan's body. They're all getting thin as supplies run low. He shifts, letting Radek slide down, lying down more than sitting up. Radek tilts his face up and Evan can see it in his eyes, the same fear and desperation he feels all the way down to his bones.

Radek brings an arm up and hooks his hand around the back of Evan's head. He tugs and pulls and Evan acquiesces with a dip of his head, meeting Radek's press of lips.

If help isn't on the way, they will die. But, Evan thinks as their noses bump a little, maybe it won't all be a total loss. 

Help will come, it _will_. But if it doesn't, Evan will press his mouth to Radek's, will undress him and touch him and feel the heat their skin makes. He'll let himself feel it, all the way, right down to the place where terror has taken up residence. They'll chase it away together, make it not _matter_. He'll have that, instead of his old life or the mythical reality he has let himself dream once or twice. 

And he hopes--_knows_\--that it won't be a total loss.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Another Time, Another Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/164063) by [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin)




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